<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Babydoll by costumejail</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24871579">Babydoll</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/costumejail/pseuds/costumejail'>costumejail</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys - My Chemical Romance (Album), The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Comic)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(a drac), Angst, Blood, First Aid, Flashbacks, Gen, Hopeful Ending, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Minor Character Death, Non-Graphic Violence, Nonbinary Party Poison (Danger Days), Not Beta Read, POV Alternating, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Siblings, Sibling Bonding, Smoking, Trans Character, Trans Kobra Kid (Danger Days), Trans Male Character, Triggers, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, is this a character study, is this a vent fic, is this a writing exercise, this one isnt fun, yes - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 09:49:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,542</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24871579</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/costumejail/pseuds/costumejail</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Party Poison uses a nickname for the Girl that brings up an unpleasant aspect of the Kobra Kid's past.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kobra Kid &amp; Party Poison (Danger Days), a little background funkobra</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>30</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Kobra</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This one deals with some really heavy themes that are in the tags but I'm gonna elaborate:<br/>- The majority of this fic is a character having flashbacks/a panic attack/a shutdown and I go into a fair bit of detail with that, both from their perspective and an outsider perspective<br/>- There's implied sexual harassment of a minor, and the outsider perspective assumes worse things happened, although there isn't a lot of detail in either perspective<br/>- References to past use of (fictional) drugs as well as smoking used as a coping mechanism in the present<br/>- No actual violence is described but a character kills a drac offscreen, sustaining an injury during the fight so there is some blood/self-first aid from that.<br/>If you want any more specifics feel free to leave a comment or message me at my <a href="sleevesareforlosers.tumblr.com">tumblr.</a> Be careful if you do decide to read this one!<br/>The same events are presented in one characters POV, then another, with the second chapter being a little less graphic. Read them in whichever order, or only read one if you like!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“No, troublemaker. Y’ gotta </span>
  <em>
    <span>eat</span>
  </em>
  <span> th’ food. ‘S not just f’r gettin’ all over yourself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Kobra Kid looked up from his zine and stifled a laugh. His sibling was trying desperately to feed a helping of PowerPup to the Girl, but she was resisting with all her tiny might. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah, very funny, Kobes,” Party Poison sniffed. “D’y’wanna give me a hand s’ they don’ wake up hungry in an hour?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not really.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, because y’r zine is tha’ important?” Fun Ghoul pushed at Kobra’s elbow and he looked down his nose at the ‘joy sprawled across his lap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll have you know, this is a potentially life-saving article about…” Kobra scanned the page, looking for the least-unnecessary feature of the page. “Meatloaf.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This prompted Ghoul to let out a bark of laughter. Kobra unceremoniously shoved him from his lap and stood, stretching his arms up to crack his elbow before wandering over to help Party with feeding the baby.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘Kay, ‘f you hold their arms, I think I can- Yes!” The Girl accepted a bite of PowerPup. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Thank</span>
  </em>
  <span> you, babydoll. Kobes, can...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Kobra wasn’t in the diner anymore. Not mentally. The sound of his siblings' voice, Ghoul’s complaining, the soft crackle of radio static all faded. One word echoed around Kobra’s mind. Babydoll, babydoll, </span>
  <em>
    <span>babydoll.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He took a shuddering step back from the man seated in front of him and opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A hand gripped his shoulder and Kobra flinched like he was being stabbed, shot, and electrocuted all at the same time. He lashed out blindly, moving sluggishly despite the hot panic working it’s way up his throat. His fist didn’t connect with anything and he closed his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they opened, he saw blurs. A red and blue shape was in front of him, a dark brown smear a little further back. A noise at his shoulder grated against his eardrums and he turned to see something tan and black standing too close. Kobra shoved the, </span>
  <em>
    <span>whatever</span>
  </em>
  <span> it was, away and ran.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was dark outside, quiet, and Kobra blindly followed his feet. He wasn’t even aware of his own movements until the roar of a motorbike filled his ears. He pointed the handlebars away from the light-filled diner and opened the throttle.</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>If anyone asked, Kobra couldn’t have honestly said how long he was out in the sands. It was still dark when he pulled up to the diner, but his stomach ached, his fingers were almost immovable from the cold. Somewhere in Zone Three was the now-stiff corpse of a draculoid that, come the morning, no one would be able to say how it got there, and the blood that had dripped down Kobra’s forehead as a result of the attack was no longer wet, just unpleasantly sticky. He pushed the door open, well-versed in the art of opening the door without setting off the bell that hung from it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His efforts were for nothing though, because Party was sitting at the booth closest to the door and at Kobra’s first footsteps across the sandy linoleum his head snapped up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re bleedin’,” Party informed him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kobra lifted a hand to his forehead and it wasn’t wet. “No,” he countered, showing his dry hand as proof.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>An annoyed look crossed Party’s face, but it vanished just as quickly. They rose from their bench and took a step towards Kobra. Even the small movement set off alarm bells in Kobra’s head and his shoulders began to creep up towards his ears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m jus’,” Party murmured. “Gonna get th’ medkit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kobra averted his eyes and took a shallow breath. Two steps carried him to the couch and he gingerly sank onto it. Party was already back and Kobra couldn’t tell if he’d been moving quickly or if his sense of time was stalling. The medkit was placed, already open, onto the couch next to Kobra and then Party retreated. He sat on the floor at the far side of the couch and averted his eyes while Kobra began to clean his face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The cut at his hairline stung as Kobra dabbed antiseptic on it, but it brought him back to the present. The cut didn’t start bleeding again, so Kobra figured he could forgo a bandage. He repacked the medkit and closed it with a snap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then he looked at Party, who hadn’t moved. They were staring at Kobra’s boots, or at least at the floor near them. Kobra lifted the toe of one boot and Party glanced up at his face. Kobra couldn’t meet their eyes and took another shallow breath before trying to speak.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His first attempt came out garbled, no real words, barely any real sounds. He swallowed dryly and started again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Babydoll,” he croaked out finally. Just the one word sent his heart rate spiking. His throat closed and he clenched his hand into a fist, digging his nails into the knuckle of his thumb to keep from jumping up and leaving the diner again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kobra closed his eyes and tried to ignore the feeling of fingers on his thigh, tugging the short hem of his skirt. He gagged on the smell of old coffee and greasy food, the minty taste of the cheap Cheer gum he stole from the corner store. He opened his eyes and reassured himself that he was wearing stained jeans. He was sitting on the couch of a different diner, hundreds of miles from the one that held this memory and the only person at all nearby was Party.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But it wasn’t until a lighter sparked and the smell of cigarette smoke filled the room that Kobra really believed it. Party stuck a hand out, holding a cigarette between two fingers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I won’ tell Jet,” Party murmured, coughing out the remnants of the small drag he must have taken to get the stick alight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kobra took the cigarette from them, careful not to graze his fingers against Party’s. He took a deep drag and coughed on the exhale, but it cleared a bit of the buzzing from his head and the bitter taste was decidedly not minty.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I never told you,” his voice came out steadier, rough from the smoke, but the words weren’t an ordeal to get out. “About when I had that job in the city.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kobes, you don’ have t-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m your brother, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Party nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kobra took another drag from the cigarette and pulled his jacket tight around his torso. “I worked at the diner on Cobalt and twenty-second. Six minutes from home if I didn’t stop to chat with the droid that lived next to the parking garage. Two days a week after school and one on the weekends.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Party didn’t move, his eyes fixed on Kobra’s face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There was this, customer. That would come in every week. Weekend. Every week-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Weeken’?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Weekend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He got my schedule from the manager. And he would sit alone in a booth. He would order. Two fried eggs on toast with a coffee. Two milk, two sugar. And is that all for you today, sir? We’ve got coconut cream pie on special.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man seated at the table smiled. It was a sick grin that split his face and he opened his mouth to say-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kobes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kobra blinked and he was back in the zones. Party’s eyebrows were knit together, either in anger or concern, Kobra couldn’t tell. Kobra took another drag from the cigarette, holding it until his eyes started to water before blowing out a cloud of smoke. The soft rustle of his jacket as he moved was oh-so-familiar and he pulled it even tighter around himself before continuing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He said I had beautiful eyes. He said my legs looked good in my skirt. He called me. Called me. He called. He called me ‘babydoll’.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Party inhaled sharply but didn’t say anything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He called me ‘babydoll’ and the first time he did I dropped my tray and I froze and I didn’t know why it felt so wrong but I couldn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> anything about it. He called me babydoll and I took his order and then I broke a mirror in the staffroom and I got picked up for evaluation.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I remember.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And two weeks later I was back and he asked where I’d been. He said he missed me and he called me ‘babydoll’ and I took his order and then I broke his nose.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A bitter laugh escaped Kobra and Party finally looked away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I knew what was wrong. And then I got home and I cut my hair and you-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I remember.” Party’s voice was thick and when Kobra looked at him there were tears in his eyes. “I think, sometimes, y’ did more growin’ up in th’ city than I ever did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The cigarette was down to the filter and Kobra dropped it, grinding out the cherry under his heel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“An’ I’m sorry I wasn’ there f’r you more. I- I wasn’ th’ best big sibling I could’a been, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wouldn’t want anyone else.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kobra reached out a hand and put it on the couch between him and Party. Ever so slowly, Party put their hand next to it. There was barely an inch between them, Kobra could feel the warmth from Party’s hand and when he stretched out one finger and linked it around Party’s, he finally felt like he was home.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Party</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Chapter 1, but from Party Poison's perspective.<br/>Most of the same warnings apply, if <i>slightly</i> less graphic because Party isn't the one having a panic attack.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>At the last second, the Girl turned her face and caused Party to smear the spoonful of PowerPup across her cheek. He groaned, wiped her face and tapped her nose lightly to make her look at him.</p><p>“No, troublemaker. Y’ gotta <em> eat </em> th’ food. ‘S not just f’r gettin’ all over yourself.”</p><p>From the couch, Kobra let out a snort and Party rolled their eyes.</p><p>“Yeah, yeah, very funny, Kobes,” Party loaded another spoonful of PowerPup and then turned to face his brother. “D’y’wanna give me a hand s’ they don’ wake up hungry in an hour?”</p><p>Kobra looked pretty comfortable on the couch, he was sprawled low on the cushions, leaning against the arm of the couch as he read a zine. Not to mention Fun Ghoul taking up the remainder of the couch with his head resting in Kobra’s lap. So it wasn’t really a surprise when, without looking up from his zine, Kobra replied, “not really.”</p><p>“Oh, because y’r zine is tha’ important?” Ghoul teased, jostling Kobra’s elbow and flashing him a grin.</p><p>“I’ll have you know, this is a very interesting article about…” </p><p>Party gave up and turned back to the Girl, who gurgled cheerfully as she evaded yet another spoonful of the dog food. A tap on their elbow alerted them to Kobra’s presence, and Party started giving instructions while still trying to coax the Girl into accepting a bite of food.</p><p>“‘Kay, ‘f you hold their arms, I think I can- Yes!” The Girl opened her mouth and Party quickly filled it with the spoonful of PowerPup. “<em>Thank </em>you, babydoll. Kobes, can y’ hand me tha’ tow- Woah, hey. <em> Hey.</em>”</p><p>Party looked away from the baby for a second and watched his brother <em>recede</em>. His eyes went distant in a second and Kobra staggered back. Party reached out instinctively to steady him but as soon as Party’s hand grazed Kobra’s shoulder he jerked. Instantly, Ghoul was at Kobra’s side and Party snatched their hand back as Kobra swung at them. The movement was uncoordinated and easy to dodge, not like Kobra at all.</p><p>“Kobes,” Ghoul murmured, not touching Kobra but close enough to catch him if he fell, which was looking more and more likely with each second.</p><p>Kobra’s eyes snapped open and the look in them knocked the breath out of Party’s lungs. His eyes were dark, the pupils even wider than normal. Kobra’s gaze darted around, first to Party, then the Girl, then Ghoul. But there was no recognition. His shoulders, already tense, snapped up to bracket his ears. Before either Party or Ghoul could react, Kobra pushed past Ghoul and bolted.</p><p>At the sound of the diner door slamming shut behind Kobra, the Girl let out a cry. Both Ghoul and Party moved to soothe her but Ghoul got there first. He held her to his shoulder and rubbed her back gently, “‘S’okay, baby.”</p><p>Satisfied that Ghoul had the Girl, Party announced their plans. “I’m going after him.”</p><p>“He probably just went for a sm-” </p><p>Ghoul’s voice died as the sound of Kobra’s bike started up and Party opened the diner door just in time to see the taillights fade into the night.</p>
<hr/><p>Kobra had been gone for hours. Eventually, the Girl had gotten tired and started to fuss, so Ghoul elected to take her to bed while Party held his own vigil waiting for Kobra. Finally, just when Party had been about to give up and go to bed, the diner door inched open and Kobra padded inside.</p><p>The first thing that Party noticed was the blood. It soaked Kobra’s hair and covered half of his face with a wet shine.</p><p>“You’re bleedin’,” Party barely kept the panic out of their voice. That wasn’t what Kobra needed.</p><p>Still moving far too slowly, Kobra fumbled at his face. “No,” he mumbled, holding up a hand that was also covered in blood.</p><p>Party held back a sigh and got up from his bench. He went to head for the kitchen where the medkit was kept and he’d taken a single step before Kobra hunched, drawing in on himself again. Cursing himself for not being more obvious about their movements, Party gently spoke. “I’m jus’ gonna get th’ medkit.”</p><p>When Kobra didn’t react, Party cautiously backed away and into the kitchen. The medkit wasn’t in its usual spot, but after a few minutes of searching, they found it hidden between the coffeemaker and a carton of Jump Juice. They carted it back to the dining room and saw Kobra, sitting far too still on the edge of the couch. Trying not to alarm Kobra, Party opened the medkit and set it in the middle of the couch, then they sat on the floor at the far end, far enough away from Kobra that they hoped their presence wouldn’t startle him, but close enough to help him if he needed it.</p><p>Out of the corner of his eye, Party watched Kobra clumsily swipe at his hairline, more messing up his hair than actually treating the wound. But at least some of the blood got shifted and Party could see that the cut wasn’t too big. He made a note to properly clean the wound in the morning when Kobra sharply closed the medkit without bandaging his forehead.</p><p>They fixed their gaze firmly on Kobra’s boots, noting the worn toes and tightly knotted laces. A few minutes later, Kobra tapped his toe once and Party met his gaze. But Kobra glanced away and opened his mouth.</p><p>A choked noise escaped Kobra’s mouth. It hurt Party to see him struggle so much, this was entirely new to him and he had no idea how to help. So Party sat and watched his brother fight an internal war until Kobra finally spoke a single word.</p><p>“Babydoll.”</p><p>Party recognized the nickname they’d used earlier for the Girl, but the significance eluded them. It wasn’t good if Kobra’s state was anything to go by. He was hyperventilating, clenching his hands and shaking. Party’s brain stalled, they fumbled for some way to help, anything to pull Kobra back from the precipice of another shutdown. They shifted their weight to get up and felt the unfamiliar bulk of a pack of cigarettes in their pocket. Ghoul had slipped it to them before taking the Girl to bed, mentioning that, if Kobra hadn’t already, he would probably want a smoke. </p><p>Party suppressed his hatred for Kobra’s smoking habit long enough to spark the lighter and inhale through what he hoped was the right end. The smoke burned his throat and he coughed violently, eyes streaming. But Kobra’s eyes were open, watching him extend a hand with the cigarette held between two fingers.</p><p>Still coughing slightly, Party assured Kobra, “I won’ tell Jet.”</p><p>Kobra snatched the stick from Party and inhaled deeply. His eyes fluttered shut when he exhaled and he addressed the back of his eyelids when he finally spoke again.</p><p>“I never told you about when I had that job in the city.”</p><p>Although Party’s memories of most of their life in the city were hazy, they remembered vaguely the job Kobra had held when he was fourteen. He was a cashier? Or maybe a car wash attendant, overseeing the droids that scrubbed already-spotless white cars. Whatever it was, it clearly had some hidden effect that pained Kobra just to think about. “Kobes, you don’ have t-”</p><p>“I’m your brother, right?”</p><p>The question took Party aback. He’d never treated Kobra as anything else, once he knew, and the uncertainty was especially jarring, given the night's events. But he nodded, not quite sure where Kobra was going with this, yet willing to follow whatever train of thought had grabbed him.</p><p>“I worked at the diner on Cobalt and twenty-second. Six minutes from home if I didn’t stop to chat with the droid that lived next to the parking garage. Two days a week after school and one on the weekends. There was this, customer. That would come in every week. Weekend. Every week-” </p><p>Kobra began to stutter, his breath speeding up and Party took a chance with interrupting him.</p><p>“Weeken’?”</p><p>Their gamble paid off and Kobra steadied.</p><p>“Weekend.”</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>“He got my schedule from the manager. And he would sit alone in a booth. He would order. Two fried eggs on toast with a coffee. Two milk, two sugar. And is that all for you today sir? We’ve got coconut cream pie on special.”</p><p>Before Party’s eyes, Kobra changed. His back straightened, shoulders dropped but stayed tense. A fake smile plastered itself over Kobra’s face and his voice crept upwards, taking on a cheery drawl that sounded painfully unnatural compared to Kobra’s usual dry tone. Whatever was on Kobra’s mind had him in a firm grip and it terrified Party.</p><p>“Kobes,” they interjected.</p><p>Kobra blinked, took a deep drag from the cigarette and pulled his red jacket closer to himself. </p><p>“He said I had beautiful eyes. He said my legs looked good in my skirt. He called me. Called me. He called. He called me ‘babydoll’.”</p><p>It finally clicked and Party’s vision swam. This guy had done something to his baby brother that still affected him five years later just from hearing the word. Party fought the urge to get into the Trans Am, drive to Battery City, find this predator and make him regret everything he’d ever done to Kobra. But that was what Party wanted, not what Kobra needed. Kobra was still talking and Party forced himself to pay attention.</p><p>“He called me ‘babydoll’ and the first time he did I dropped my tray and I froze and I didn’t know why it felt so wrong but I couldn’t <em>do </em>anything about it. He called me babydoll and I took his order and then I broke a mirror in the staffroom and I got picked up for evaluation.”</p><p>“I remember.”</p><p>Party did. It was something that, at the time, they’d thought was odd, but not worth reporting to the company. When Kobra came home from work with a bleeding hand they’d assumed he cut it on the job, somehow and when Kobra got taken away by S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W’s that night Party’s conditioning had made them believe it was for the best.</p><p>“And two weeks later I was back and he asked where I’d been. He said he missed me and he called me ‘babydoll’ and I took his order and then I broke his nose.”</p><p>The laugh that Kobra released was ice. It was a sound Party never wanted to hear again.</p><p>“I knew what was wrong. And then I got home and I cut my hair and you-”</p><p>“I remember. I think sometimes,” Party searched for the words. He thought about all of Kobra’s youth that he’d missed, courtesy of BL/ind, and he was filled with shame, regret, and hot, sick, anger. He wiped away the tears that suddenly filled his eyes and continued. “y’ did more growin’ up in th’ city than I ever did. An’ I’m sorry I wasn’ there f’r you more. I- I wasn’ th’ best big sibling I could’a been, huh?”</p><p>“I wouldn’t want anyone else.”</p><p>The look on Kobra’s face wasn’t a smile, it was only degrees softer than his mid-shutdown-face, but seeing him even a bit closer to relaxed sent a wave of relief through Party. With smoother movements than he’d shown all night, Kobra uncurled from himself and put a hand on the couch cushions between him and Party. </p><p>It took a moment for Party to understand the gesture, but they mirrored it, resting their hand just next to Kobra’s. Kobra’s pinky finger was cold when he wrapped it around Party’s, but he squeezed tightly and Party breathed out a sigh of relief.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I got sent a <a href="https://sleevesareforlosers.tumblr.com/post/621516465996201984/you-know-what-im-sending-another-one-thoughts-on">"Thoughts on the Kobra Kid" ask</a> and this scenario sprung from one of them. Sorry for the return to angstposting in such a,,, dramatic manner.<br/>Hope y'all liked this one and it wasn't too upsetting! Go read some fluff or watch some cute animal videos or something.<br/>If you want to leave a comment, or <a href="sleevesareforlosers.tumblr.com/ask">send me an ask</a> about this one go right ahead!! Thanks for reading!</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>